


You

by scrapbullet



Category: The Following
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, awkward phone calls, but if Joe can't speak to Claire then Ryan is the next best thing, even though technically Emma is asleep during this, implied Emma Hill/Joe Carroll, spoilers for 1.08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 03:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/pseuds/scrapbullet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It rings once, twice, and is answered with a voice hoarse from grief and lack of sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poemwithnorhyme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poemwithnorhyme/gifts).



It rings once, twice, and is answered with a voice hoarse from grief and lack of sleep. _"'Lo?"_ Each breath is deep and unsteady. It is all too apparent that Ryan Hardy has gone beyond physical exhaustion and into that place where the shadows are, where sleep is but a hope and a dream and the nightmare prevails. 

Joe Carroll closes his eyes for but a single moment, and smiles.

Ryan huffs. Joe can almost imagine it -- Ryan, tipping his head back as he scrubs the grit from his eyes and grimaces at the crick in his neck, frustration seeping into his very bones -- and wonders if Claire would rub the stiffness from those taut shoulders. Perhaps she'd dig her strong little fingers into the muscle and make Ryan gasp and moan before kissing the contortion away; sweet and soft in all the ways that Joe isn't.

Perhaps, perhaps. One could lose oneself in such fantasies; Claire and Ryan writhing behind his eyelids.

_"Dammit. Who is this?"_

Joe hums.

Emma slumbers beside him, breasts bare and nipples hard from the cold and his attentions. She doesn't stir even when he shifts -- when Ryan no-doubt hears it and goes quiet before saying his name, saying _"Joe"_ like a prayer -- soft and satisfied in repose. Look at her. Look at the contented feline, how she basks in his favour. Does she appreciate her reward? Does she realise how blessed she is, for Joe to lower himself to something as base as sex?

"We parted on bad terms, you and I." His healing fingers trace the fresh bruises he'd bitten into Emma's neck. Each press makes her sigh, even in sleep. "I would apologise, but you would not accept it, would you?"

With Claire gone, hidden away, Ryan is the next best thing. More than that, even, but how is he to compare their importance? He can't, of course. 

_"Oh, whatever makes you think that?"_ Ah, that biting sarcasm. How he's missed it. _"Where are you, Joe? Where's Joey, huh? If you've hurt him-"_

A curse; soft, low, feminine. Ah, it seems they've discovered that the line is secure. Untraceable. Quite ingenious. Charlie had been such a clever lad; it's a shame that he'd had to die, really. 

"Joey is safe as houses," Joe says. "But that's not why I called. How is young Weston, by the way?"

Silence. Only the hitch in Ryan's breath tells Joe he's still on the line.

Joe frowns. "No? How disappointing. I appear to have burnt all of your passion away. And you did used to have such passion, Ryan."

Once, Ryan was a creature of light. He shone, and it was that brightness which drew Joe in. Once, Joe had plied Ryan with drink and smiles and an offer of friendship, one that lead to bared skin and warm, shared breath and Ryan scratching into Joe's skin as he spent himself. Now, now Ryan is corrupt. Now, Joe has hollowed him out and made a space for himself, a wound that has festered and grown.

_"What do you want, Joe. I can't tell you where Claire is-"_

"-because you don't know, yes, yes, I'm aware." Emma turns into Joe's body, seeking warmth. "I merely wished to hear your voice."

_"...screw you, Carroll."_

Dial tone. Joe suppresses a laugh, presses the end call button, and touches the cool plastic of the cell phone to his lips. Strange, how nostalgia can come upon a man... 

If only Claire were here.

If only he could have them both.


End file.
